


The First Deal

by TrulyMightyPotato



Series: Royal Flush [40]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Wade has an Idea, bittersweet brother time, pre-AAO, well it's Molly's Idea but he's helping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27927184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyMightyPotato/pseuds/TrulyMightyPotato
Summary: December 26, 1921. Mark chooses his path.
Series: Royal Flush [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/699969
Comments: 11
Kudos: 15





	The First Deal

_ December 26, 1921 _

The Tiny Box always opened the day after Christmas. It had been going on for years, and neither Mrs. Fischbach nor her son Mark had any intentions of changing that. It was hard sometimes, yes; but it was always worth it to see families come in and talk and grow closer to each other once again.

Tonight was a bit different than normal, in that Mark wasn’t the only Fischbach to be at the restaurant as the last of the customers drifted away and the staff began to close up for the night.

“You didn’t have to stay up with me this late,” Mark said, wiping down some of the kitchen counters. “I know you have to work tomorrow.”

“I wanted to spend time with you,” Tom said kindly, elbows deep in suds and dishes. “It’s been a while. It’s so hard to line up our schedules—of course I took the opportunity.”

Mark smiled at his brother. “It’s good to have you around,” he admitted. “I’m just worried you’re going to overwork yourself.”

“Oh, tomorrow won’t be bad.” Tom picked up another dish from the soapy water. “Most people aren’t interested in bothering the courthouses just yet.” He rolled his eyes. “Although if this year is anything like last year, we’re going to get a bunch of false reports about people breaking Prohibition.”

Mark tensed slightly at the mention of the law. “Oh?”

“It’s not illegal to drink, after all.” Tom slid the cleaned dish into the rinse water. “There are people who have kept old bottles for the holidays. They’re entirely in their rights to drink them.” He shook his head as Mark frowned. “I don’t care if people drink, Mark. That’s not why I support Prohibition, and you know it.”

Mark lifted one shoulder and continued wiping down counters. “It doesn’t seem to have stopped crime all that much. I don’t think drinking too much was the source of crime.”

“It’s only been two years. It’s going to take time.”

“If you say so.”

There wasn’t any point to this conversation. There never was, and never would be. Neither of the brothers had any intentions of changing their stance on things.

“You shut down the bar when the law went into effect,” Tom pointed out.

“Yeah, because selling alcohol is illegal now.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Mom and I are trying to keep food on the table and a roof overhead—getting arrested and thrown into prison for breaking federal law isn’t going to help anything.”

Tom fell silent.

Mark loved his brother, he really did, but sometimes he was insufferable. Couldn’t he see that people were suffering? Veterans were drinking to try and forget the things they’d seen. He’d seen friendships drift apart after being kept together for years by finding time once a week to go share a drink together. Plus, it wasn’t exactly like people had stopped drinking: speakeasies existed, and they weren’t even safe. People were  _ risking their lives _ to drink, and that made him unreasonably angry.

Mostly because he’d been there.

“Mom was talking to me about some of the new applicants for the cook opening?” Tom said slowly, hesitantly. “I didn’t recognize any of the names, but she said a few are regulars. Kept talking about this young woman named Amy. Does the name strike a bell?”

Mark pursed his lips, breaking his thoughts from Prohibition. “Amy...” He squinted at the cleaning rag in his hand. “Amy... what’s her last name?”

Tom shrugged. “I didn’t catch it. Mom said she comes in at least once a week with her friend Kathryn, though.”

Mark lit up. “Oh, that Amy! I didn’t know she’d applied. She’s fantastic. She’s an artist, you know. She’s shown me some of the concept work for her stuff. I don’t always really understand it, but she’s clearly proud of it, and I can admire that.”

“Do you think Mom will interview her?”

Mark shrugged. “Maybe. She might have me do it. She’s been trying to get me to do more of it, though for some reason most of them aren’t scheduled in the afternoon, so it hasn’t happened much.” He thought to Amy. “She’d be a good fit here, though, I think. That kind of enthusiasm is hard to find. Plus, from what I’ve gathered about her, she’s a hard worker, and we can always use that. It doesn’t matter much if she has cooking experience, we’ll test her on that, and as long as she doesn’t burn the food and can follow instructions, then we can teach her. I’m sure she’ll pick it up.”

Tom grinned at him, leaning on the sink.

Mark narrowed his eyes at him. “What?”

“It’s nice watching you so excited about things,” Tom admitted. “I haven’t seen it much since...” He sighed. “Since before Dad died.”

The unspoken ‘since before the war’ hung in the air between them.

“Things were really rough for a while there,” Mark said much more casually than he felt. “I was in and out of hospitals so much it was just...” He shook his head. “It was hard to keep things in perspective, believe it or not. I kept thinking I was better, and then I’d go in for a check-up and they’d find a new problem. It was...” He shuddered. “I don’t recommend it, let’s put it that way.”

“I wish I was there for you.”

Mark shook his head. “No, we both know that couldn’t have happened.” He glanced over, a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Dad wanted one of us to follow in his footsteps, after all, and I clearly couldn’t do it. Both of us disappointing him just wouldn’t have worked.”

“He loved you.” Tom frowned at Mark. “He was just worried about you after you collapsed like that.”

Mark shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t remember much about that, to be honest.” That was a lie, he very distinctly remembered feeling the shame of being not only denied enlisting, but being stuck in the hospital for such a long time for recovery... his father had never said as much, but Mark knew he was disappointed. “Everything gets kinda fuzzy around then. They said it’s probably because of the stress on my body at the time.”

Tom nodded slowly. “You do feel better, right? The tumor hasn’t come back?”

Mark shook his head. “Not the last time I went in to get it checked.” He sent Tom a reassuring smile. “I’m in the clear so far. A clean bill of health.” He was lucky for that. He knew that. It didn’t make it any easier to reconcile with the way his life had gone. “Dad would be proud.”

Tom smiled at him, though something about it seemed to falter. If he’d been planning on saying anything, he cut himself off as a few of the waiters brought more dishes back.

The silence was easier this time. It wasn’t perfect, but it hardly ever was anymore. Still, it was a relief from the arguing they’d been doing so much recently. While neither of them would admit it, both of them missed the closeness they’d had in childhood. Now, it seemed like neither of them could speak without putting the other on edge. Perhaps it would have helped if they’d admitted they admired the way the other stood their ground on such a controversial issue, even if they disagreed with the reasons behind it. Perhaps it would have helped if they reminded each other more that they loved each other, that both of them valued their relationship as brothers more than they cared to admit.

But neither of them said those things.

Mark glanced at his brother while he continued wiping down the counters, pausing to scrub at some spilled sauce that had hardened on the surface. The stress of Tom’s work in the judicial field was beginning to wear its way onto his face in weary lines that hadn’t been there a year ago. He seemed far too young to be getting them like that; he wasn’t even thirty yet. 

It was a hard job, Mark knew. There was a lot of crime right now, even though most of it was caused by desperation. There was a lot of corruption, too, in both the judicial system and the police—he knew bribes were commonplace, though the exact details of how much so were beyond him.

“Have you met many officers?” Mark asked, turning his rag to a clean spot. “What do you think of them?”

Tom glanced over before returning his gaze to the dishes. “Many. I don’t remember most of their names. We don’t really speak. They’re just there to escort criminals to and from their trials.” He tilted his head. “There’s one in the third precinct... something Patrick, I think. A detective. We’ve worked together a few times. It’s a little early to tell for sure, but... I think he’s one of the good ones.”

Mark narrowed his eyes, thinking. “A Matthew Patrick comes in with his wife Stephanie once a month or so. I think he’s in the police force, though he doesn’t really talk about work when he’s here.” He raised an eyebrow. “Talks about his wife a lot, though.”

Tom chuckled softly. “That’s him, for sure. He’s singlehandedly reminding everyone what love actually looks like.”

Mark nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, he’s a good man. Not perfect, of course, but nobody is.”

“We’re all just doing our best,” Tom agreed. “That’s all any of us can do in this world.”

Mark fell silent, clearly mulling over something as he picked at something dried on the counter. Tom didn’t press, instead stealing glances at his little brother. Things were hard enough between them without forcing Mark to talk about things he wasn’t ready to talk about.

Even if he wished Mark still felt safe enough to come to him with everything.

“So, tell me,” Mark said, “what is Detective Patrick like? I know what he’s like here, but a man can be very different when he’s not around his wife.”

“Are you worried about his wife?” Tom blinked. “Why?”

“Because a lot of men treat their wives horribly.” Mark raised his eyebrows. “I need to know if I have to hunt down a way to contact the Orchids I hear so much about and get her out of there.” Not that Mark was ever going to admit that he was close friends with the two leaders of the Orchids on the Lam.

Tom tilted his head. “You realize they’re criminals, right?”

Mark grunted softly. “They’re saving lives.”

“Yes.” Tom stared down at the bubbles in the sink. “I wish that made a difference to the law.”

“The law is justice, Tom, not mercy.” Mark sighed. “Justice has no regard for kindness. We need mercy to stay human.”

“Yeah.” Tom smiled faintly at Mark. “I know.” He shook his head. “I’m bound to justice, though. It’s my job. You... I’m glad you’ve embraced mercy.” He looked back at the dishes, scared of how Mark would react when he continued. “It’s made you a better man than I.”

Mark scoffed. “Please. You’re a fantastic person. I could never live up to you.”

“We’re different people, Mark. You shouldn’t try to live up to me.”

The last of the dishes were washed, and after Tom glanced out into the dining room to make sure the last of the customers were gone (they were), he drained the sink and washed it down.

“You know,” Mark said slowly, “I’m glad you’re my brother.” He gently bumped Tom’s shoulder with his own, turning the water to rinse out his rag. “I couldn’t have asked for a better one.”

Tom bumped Mark’s shoulder back. “I could say the same about you.”

The door opened, and both of the Fischbach brothers looked up to see Wade Barnes standing in the kitchen, hands crammed into his pockets and looking uncomfortable.

“Wade!” Mark greeted. “How’s it going?”

Wade’s gaze flicked to Tom, then to Mark. “I... uh... I need to talk to you.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I need some advice. Just... whenever you have time.”

Mark and Tom exchanged a long glance before Tom nodded. Mark nodded himself and dropped the rag into the dirty laundry bag, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Let’s go into the office. We can take as long as we’d like in there.”

“I’ll just finish up out here,” Tom said, reaching for the broom to sweep. “Careful with the wet floor later.”

Neither of the brothers said goodbye, despite knowing that it would be at least several days before they’d be able to see one another again. Neither of them really felt the need. After all, Tom reasoned, it wasn’t like Mark was going to be making any life-altering decisions that would put him in unreasonable danger. Besides, Mark was right: Tom needed to get home and to sleep so he could actually work properly in the morning.

Mark led Wade into the office, closing the door behind them.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked, taking his usual seat behind the desk and leaving Wade to take the one closer to the door.

“It’s... not so much as what’s wrong.” Wade scratched the back of his neck. “I just needed to get you away from Tom. It’s Orchid business.”

“Oh.” Mark leaned back in his seat, making himself comfortable. “Why are you coming to me with it?”

Wade’s gaze flicked up to meet Mark’s, eyes warm. “Molly has a proposition for you. What do you say to opening a speakeasy here?”


End file.
